


Touch Starved

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Other, Reading Aloud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25865929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: Brahms is still paying you to be his nanny even after you found out about him being a fully grown man.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 13
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

You could feel him. His presence. It was always there, looming, intimidating, watching. Even when you wanted to be alone. You missed the days when you thought the feeling was from a ghost, not from a perverted thirty-something man living in the walls.

Trying your best to ignore it, you continued looking for a book to read, your headphones blasting music into your ears. The music was a new coping mechanism, because after you found out about Brahms, every sound in the house would make you jump in fear. The music helped stop that.

You pulled out the book Frankenstein, deciding to finally try your hand at the classic. You walked over to the armchair and plopped down, cracking open the book.

The way it was written made it hard for you to get in to, but you powered through it. Vaguely you wondered if people actually spent that much energy talking like that back in the day. The first three pages could've been condensed to a single sentence; 'I'm lonely, dear sister.' That's it. That's literally all it would have taken to get that point across.

"That's a good book." Suddenly cut through your music, making you scream and nearly fall out of the chair.

Brahms jumped beside you, holding up his hands in surprise.

"Damn it!" Ripping off your headphones, you glared up at the masked man. "Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I tried talking." He folded his hands behind his back, tilting his head down. "I'm sorry."

Sighing, you tossed the book onto the coffee table. "What did you want?"

"I just wanted to..." He looked off to the side, his voice faltering. Truth be told, he had no idea what it was he really wanted. He just wanted to be near you. To talk to you. For you to like him. But that was too many things to ask for. "Will you read to me?"

"Brahms..." You sighed, running your hand through your hair. No matter how crazy this entire situation was, he was still paying you. And thanks to debt and the rocky state of the world there was no way you were leaving this job when it paid so well. Though you probably should mind how irritated you got to Brahms, considering he was the one paying you now.

"Okay." You finally said, picking the book back up. "I haven't gotten very far anyway."

"Can we sit on the couch?" He asked, perking up.

"Fine." You moved to the couch, setting up several pillows to prop yourself up on. You laid on your side, getting comfortable. "Do you mind putting my legs on your lap? It's comfier than sitting up straight."

Brahms quickly shook his head, sitting in the couch cushion next to you. You put your legs on his lap, and Brahms gasped so loudly once you made contact you quickly swung your legs off the couch.

"Did I kick you?" You asked, frowning. It didn't feel like you had kicked him, but his gasp was so alarming you didn't trust yourself.

He quickly shook his head, looking at you with wide eyes. "No, sorry, no. Put them back."

You raised your eyebrow, but you slowly put them back. Brahms gasped again, but this time it sounded muffled, like he was biting his cheek.

"Hm." You turned back to page one, beginning to read to him. As you read, he tentatively put his hands on your calves, slowly running his thumbs over the seams of your pants. You could have sworn you saw him shiver.

Ignoring that, you focused on reading, absorbing the story a little better now that you were reading it a second time. As you read, Brahms slowly began to sink on his side. It was so gradual (and since you were busy reading) you didn't notice until his head was resting on your hip.

His arms slowly snaked around your waist, a ragged sigh and another shiver coming from him. You glanced down at him, hearing him swallow nervously as he lightly squeezed you.

You turned the page of the book, continuing to read. You then rested your hand in his hair, and you swore he bit back a moan.

Your chest tightened at the sound. Brahms was creepy, and he had a lot of faults, but seeing him so needy for touch made you feel sorry for him. You lightly scratched his scalp, sending another shiver through his body.

Focusing on the book, you continued to read for him, allowing him to touch you freely this once. It felt like he needed it. As long as he didn't try anything funny, you'd make a point to touch him a little more often.


	2. Bedtime

Brahms insisted that the two of you continue to read the book together, and you expected that much after that first day. Every other time you read to him, however, the two of you didn’t cuddle. Usually you read by his bed or in an armchair, somewhere not great for cuddling. 

His reactions to touching you were odd to say the least. They were the real reason that every other reading session you had made sure took place somewhere he couldn’t touch you. It was the gasps and the moans that really cemented the strangeness for you. Did you feel bad for him? Yes. But were you also a little creeped out? Also yes. 

You watched him one evening, as he got ready for bed. He was buttoning up his pajama top in the bathroom, his hair damp from his bath. Brahms preferred baths over showers, and the part of you with (very) limited psychological knowledge wondered if being surrounded by hot water somehow simulated human contact. 

“Brahms, are you almost done?” You asked, leaning on the door frame. 

He turned to you and nodded, finishing up the last button and hurrying over to your side. You looked up at him, realizing all over again just how tall he was. He stared down at you, excitement obvious in his eyes. 

Though you hadn’t cuddled with him again, he was still excited to finish the book, though you were positive that he had read it before. He made it abundantly clear that he looked forward to this unscheduled time together each day. 

Looking into his eyes, you noted how one was bloodshot and the other was not. They were both a beautiful green color. And in the few times you heard his adult voice, he had a nice voice. You wondered what he looked like behind the mask. You wondered what kind of life he would have had with those nice eyes, that nice voice, and his tall stature – if he had gotten to live without the trauma his parents had inflicted on him.

“Brahms, I don’t want to read tonight.” You said, turning away from him, heading to his bed.

“What?” Brahms snapped, hurrying after you. “But we’re almost done! You have to read!”

“Not tonight, Brahmsy.” You pulled back the covers for him. “Get in bed.”

Brahms stubbornly stood by the bed, shaking his head. “No! You were going to read tonight!”

“Brahms, instead of reading, I just want to cuddle until you fall asleep.” You sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Would that be okay?”

Any fight that was inside Brahms quickly died as he absorbed your words. He looked at you for a long time in silence, not trusting what he heard.

“Really?” He breathed.

You nodded, pulling the covers back once again. “I know you’ve been having nightmares lately, so I thought this might help.”

He hurried into bed, getting under the covers and turning to you with expectant eyes. You gave him a small smile, putting only your legs under the covers and scooting next to him, still sitting up right. You gently placed your hand on the back of his head, guiding him until his head rested on your lap.

Brahms whimpered, wrapping his hands around your legs, hugging them tightly. You kept your hand on the back of his head, gently giving his scalp light scratches. He bit back another noise, nuzzling his mask into your thighs. 

You stared down at him, continuing to give his head light scratches as he clung to you like a lifeline. With your other hand, you gently ran your fingers down his spine, earning a shiver from the tall man. 

“You really needed this, didn’t you?” You whispered, pity and empathy making your chest ache as you watched his body react to simple touches.

He nodded slightly, turning his head a bit to look at you. “I keep dreaming I’m alone.”

“Well, you’re not.” You said uselessly, continuing to run your hand over his back. You hadn’t really been asking about the nightmares, you meant that he needed human touch in general. But, if this did help him in multiple ways, then that was a win-win. 

Brahms moved closer to you, his entire body relaxing into your warmth. His eyes squeezed shut, locking his arms together as if that could stop this moment from ending.

“Promise you’ll stay here until you fall asleep?” He whimpered, shivering again as you continued running your hands through his hair and over his body. If Brahms thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he was touched (aside from the first time you had read to him). 

He didn’t really realize how much he missed it until he felt you. Felt the softness of your body, felt your warmth against him. Brahms wanted more, but at the same time, he didn’t want you to hate him. He knew that he was something to be kept out of sight, not someone to be loved and touched like a normal man. He didn’t want you to leave him like his parents had.

Brahms didn’t realize he was crying until you suddenly jerked underneath him.

“Brahms? Are you okay?” You asked, turning his face toward you. You frowned when you saw how wet his eyes were. “Brahms?”

He looked away again, wiping the tears out of his eyes through the eyeholes in his mask. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head. 

“Hey, hey.” You pulled him back to you, letting him rest his head on your chest, and resting your head on top of his, gently rocking him back and forth. “I’m right here, I’ve got you.”

Sniffing more, the mask only making his situation worse, Brahms hugged you properly. He let out a raggedy breath, his eyes tearing up again. “Please don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You murmured, kissing the top of his head.

Brahms nodded, hugging you so tight it almost knocked the wind out of you. But you didn’t try to correct him or stop him from holding you as tightly as he needed. You took as deep a breath as you could, hugging him back just as tight. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You repeated.


	3. Sleep

You heard the wall creak ever so slightly, alerting you to Brahms’ impending entrance. Of course, if he wanted to, he could have come in silently. Making noise was his version of being courteous when coming in without knocking.

Stubbornly, you wrapped your blanket tighter around yourself, keeping your eyes shut. You’d been a moment away from falling asleep when you heard the sound, and your body was still falling fast though your mind tried to focus.

Brahms walked over to your side, kneeling beside the bed. He noticed the slight scowl on your face and the way your eyelids were fighting to open. He smiled to himself when he realized he’d woken you up. That made him happy in his own mischievous way. 

He whispered your name, and he tried his best not to chuckle when your face scrunched up more, you obviously trying to pull yourself out of sleep for him. He rested his hand on the lump under the covers that was your shoulder, gently squeezing it. That was what finally got you to huff out a response your eyes finally opening.

You looked so cute with your hair spread out over the pillow, your eyes all squinty and tired as you looked up at him. He slid his hand off of you, standing.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” He whispered.

“Brahmsy.” You grumbled, turning onto your back. “You have your own bed.”

“I miss my parents.” Brahms folded his hands behind his back, looking away. “I miss a lot of things.”

You sighed sleepily, pushing yourself up into sitting position, shivering when the blanket fell around your waist, all your trapped body heat escaping. Shaking your head and running a hand through your hair, you mind finally became focused enough to form a coherent thought. “What are you feeling right now, Brahms?”

Brahms snapped to attention; this ‘what are you feeling right now’ a tactic you’d used to get him to use his words instead of throw tantrums or hide your things. He wasn’t throwing a tantrum, so he didn’t quite understand why you were making him do this exercise, but if it got him into bed with you then he’d do it.

“Lonely.” He started off slowly, trying to pinpoint what bad feelings he was feeling. “Small. Scared. I want something. I don’t know what, though.”

You nodded slowly, resting your chin on your knee, blinking tiredly. He seemed sincere. You knew him well enough to know that he could have other reasons for wanting to climb in bed with you, but it seemed that he was being honest with you. 

Scooting to the side, you pulled back the covers. “I only have one pillow.”

Behind his mask, Brahms’ face lit up and he crawled in next to you, keeping his head lifted as you pulled the pillow towards the middle of the bed. “That’s fine.”

You curled back up into your sleepy ball, putting your head on half the pillow. Brahms rested his head on the other half, the two of you facing each other. His breathing sounded heavy and muffled behind his mask, and you offered him a small smile.

“Do you sleep wearing that?” You whispered.

He shook his head slightly, pulling the blankets higher over his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of your body heat that you’d left on the blankets. It felt like he was wrapped up in you. “I don’t.”

“You can take it off, Brahmsy.” You smiled, inching closer to him to get more of your head on the pillow. “I’ll be asleep again in a moment.”

Brahms eyed your hand that you’d put under the pillow for support. Slowly, he slid his hand up, wrapping his hand around yours before slowly intertwining your fingers. He audibly gasped when you gently squeezed his hand, a sleepy smile forming on your face.

“I’m right here.” You mumbled, closing your eyes, feeling your body falling right back into sleep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears pricked at his eyes as he watched your breathing even out and your body relax, your grip on his hand laxing as you fell asleep. His heart ached. But he got to stay with you, he got to sleep with you, and you promised you were going to stay with him. 

With his free hand he slipped off his mask, resting it on the side table by the bed, his face chilly in the open air. He slowly moved closer to you, resting his hand on your hip, feeling the warmth that radiated from you. Maybe, if he was really good, you’d let him sleep here with you every night.


End file.
